Wives and Daughters ELIZABETH GASKELL CHAPTER 41-p2 pps

Wives and Daughters ELIZABETH GASKELL CHAPTER 41-p2 In a moment, Molly's arms were round her. 'Oh, Cynthia,' she murmured, 'have I been plaguing you? Have I vexed you? Don't say you're afraid of my knowing you. Of course you've your faults, everybody has, but I think I love you the better for them.' 'I don't know that I'm so very bad,' said Cynthia, smiling a little through the tears that Molly's words and caresses had forced to overflow from her eyes. 'But I have got into scrapes. I am in a scrape now, I do sometimes believe I shall always be in scrapes, and if they ever come to light, I shall seem to be worse than I really am; and I know your father will throw me off, and I - no, I won't be afraid that you will, Molly.' 'I'm sure I won't. Are they - do you think - how would Roger take it?' asked Molly, very timidly. 'I don't know. I hope he will never hear of it. I don't see why he should, for in a little while I shall be quite clear again. It all came about without my ever thinking I was doing wrong. I've a great mind to tell you all about it, Molly.' Molly did not like to urge it, though she longed to know, and to see if she could not offer help; but while Cynthia was hesitating, and perhaps, to say the truth, rather regretting that she had even made this slight advance towards bestowing her confidence, Mrs Gibson came in, full of some manner of altering a gown of hers, so as to make it into the fashion of the day, as she had seen it during her visit to London. Cynthia seemed to forget her tears and her troubles, and to throw her whole soul into millinery. Cynthia's correspondence went on pretty briskly with her London cousins, according to the usual rate of correspondence in those days. Indeed Mrs Gibson was occasionally inclined to complain of the frequency of Helen Kirkpatrick's letters; for before the penny post came in, the recipient had to pay the postage of letters; and elevenpence-halfpenny three times a week came, according to Mrs Gibson's mode of reckoning when annoyed, to a sum 'between three and four shillings.' But these complaints were only for the family; they saw the wrong side of the tapestry. Hollingford in general, the Miss Brownings in particular, heard of 'dear Helen's enthusiastic friendship for Cynthia' and of 'the real pleasure it was to receive such constant news - relays of news indeed - from London. It was almost as good as living there!' 'A great deal better I should think,' said Miss Browning with some severity. For she had got many of her notions of the metropolis from the British Essayists, where town is so often represented as the centre of dissipation, corrupting country wives and squires' daughters, and unfitting them for all their duties by the constant whirl of its not always innocent pleasures. London was a sort of moral pitch, which few could touch and not be defiled. Miss Browning had been on the watch for the signs of deterioration in Cynthia's character ever since her return home. But, excepting in a greater number of pretty and becoming articles of dress, there was no great change for the worse to be perceived. Cynthia had been 'in the world,' had 'beheld the glare and glitter and dazzling display of London,' yet had come back to Hollingford as ready as ever to place a chair for Miss Browning, or to gather flowers for a nosegay for Miss Phoebe, or to mend her own clothes. But all this was set down to the merits of Cynthia, not to the credit of London-town. 'As far as I can judge of London,' said Miss Browning, sententiously continuing her tirade against the place, 'it's no better than a pickpocket and a robber dressed up in the spoils of honest folk. I should like to know where my Lord Hollingford was bred, and Mr Roger Hamley. Your good husband lent me that report of the meeting, Mrs Gibson, where so much was said about them both, and he was as proud of their praises as if he had been akin to them, and Phoebe read it aloud to me, for the print was too small for my eyes; she was a good deal perplexed with all the new names of places, but I said she had better skip them all, for we had never heard of them before and probably should never hear of them again, but she read out the fine things they said of my lord, and Mr Roger, and I put it to you, where were they born and bred? Why, within eight miles of Hollingford; it might have been Molly there or me; it's all a chance; and then they go and talk about the pleasures of intellectual society in London, and the distinguished people up there that it is such an advantage to know, and all the time I know it's only shops and the play that's the real attraction. But that's neither here nor there. We all put our best foot foremost, and if we have a reason to give that looks sensible we speak it out like men, and never say anything about the silliness we are hugging to our hearts. But I ask you again, where does this fine society come from, and these wise men, and these distinguished travellers? Why, out of country parishes like this! London picks 'em all up, and decks herself with them, and then calls out loud to the folks she's robbed, and says, "Come and see how fine I am." Fine, indeed! I've no patience with London: Cynthia is much better out of it; and I'm not sure, if I were you, Mrs Gibson, if I would not stop up those London letters: they'll only be unsettling her.' 'But perhaps she may live in London some of these days, Miss Browning,' simpered Mrs Gibson. 'Time enough then to be thinking of London. I wish her an honest country husband with enough to live upon, and a little to lay by, and a good character to boot. Mind that, Molly,' said she, firing round upon the startled Molly, 'I wish Cynthia a husband with a good character; but she's got a mother to look after her; you've none and when your mother was alive she was a dear friend of mine: so I'm not going to let you throw yourself away upon any one whose life is not clear and above-board, you may depend upon it.' This last speech fell like a bomb into the quiet little drawing-room, it was delivered with such vehemence. Miss Browning, in her secret heart, meant it as a warning against the intimacy she believed that Molly had formed with Mr Preston; but as it happened that Molly had never dreamed of any such intimacy, the girl could not imagine why such severity of speech should be addressed to her. Mrs Gibson, who always took up the points of every word or action where they touched her own self (and called it sensitiveness), broke the silence that followed Miss Browning's speech by saying, plaintively, - 'I'm sure, Miss Browning, you are very much mistaken if you think that any mother could take more care of Molly than I do. I don't - I can't think there is any need for any one to interfere to protect her, and I have not an idea why you have been talking in this way, just as if we were all wrong, and you were all right. It hurts my feelings, indeed it does; for Molly can tell you there is not a thing or a favour that Cynthia has, that she has not. And as for not taking care of her, why, if she were to go up to London to-morrow, I should make a point of going with her to see after her; and I never did it for Cynthia when she was at school in France; and her bedroom is furnished just like Cynthia's; and I let her wear my red shawl whenever she likes, she might have it oftener if she would. I can't think what you mean, Miss Browning.' 'I did not mean to offend you, but I meant just to give Molly a hint. She understands what I mean.' 'I'm sure I do not,' said Molly, boldly. 'I have not a notion what you meant, if you were alluding to anything more than you said straight out; that you do not wish me to marry any one who has not a good character, and that, as you were a friend of mamma's, you would prevent my marrying a man with a bad character, by every means in your power. I'm not thinking of marrying; I don't want to marry anybody at all; but if I did, and he were not a good man, I should thank you for coming and warning me of it.' 'I shall not stand on warning you, Molly. I shall forbid the banns in church, if need be,' said Miss Browning, half convinced of the clear transparent truth of what Molly had said; blushing all over, it is true, but with her steady eyes fixed on Miss Browning's face while she spoke. 'Do!' said Molly. 'Well, well, I won't say any more. Perhaps I was mistaken, We won't say any more about it. But remember what I have said, Molly, there's no harm in that, at any rate. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Mrs Gibson. As stepmothers go, I think you try and do your duty. Good morning. Good-by to you both, and God bless you.' If Miss Browning thought that her final blessing would secure peace in the room she was leaving, she was very much mistaken; Mrs Gibson burst out with, - 'Try and do my duty, indeed! I should be much obliged to you, Molly, if you would take care not to behave in such a manner as to bring down upon me such impertinence as I have just been receiving from Miss Browning.' 'But I don't know what made her talk as she did, mamma,' said Molly. 'I'm sure I don't know, and I don't care either. But I know that I never was spoken to as if I was trying to do my duty before, - "trying" indeed! everybody always knew that I did it, without talking about it before my face in that rude manner. I've that deep feeling about duty that I think it ought only to be talked about in church, and in such sacred places as that; not to have a common caller startling one with it, even though she was an early friend of your mother's. And as if I did not look after you quite as much as I look after Cynthia! Why, it was only yesterday I went up into Cynthia's room and found her reading a letter that she put away in a hurry as soon as I came in, and I did not even ask her who it was from, and I am sure I should have made you tell me.' Very likely. Mrs Gibson shrank from any conflicts with Cynthia, pretty sure that she would be worsted in the end; while Molly generally submitted, sooner than have any struggle for her own will. Just then Cynthia came in. 'What's the matter?' said she quickly, seeing that something was wrong. 'Why, Molly has been doing something which has set that impertinent Miss Browning off into lecturing me on trying to do my duty! If your poor father had but lived, Cynthia, I should never have been spoken to as I have been. "A stepmother trying to do her duty", indeed. That was Miss Browning's expression.' Any allusion to her father took from Cynthia all desire of irony. She came forwards, and again asked Molly what was the matter. Molly, herself ruffled, made answer, - 'Miss Browning seemed to think I was likely to marry some one whose character was objectionable ' 'You, Molly?' said Cynthia. 'Yes - she once before spoke to me, - I suspect she has got some notion about Mr Preston in her head ' Cynthia sate down quite suddenly. Molly went on, - 'and she spoke as if mamma did not look enough after me, - I think she was rather provoking ' 'Not rather, but very - very impertinent,' said Mrs Gibson, a little soothed by Molly's recognition of her grievance. 'What could have put it into her head?' said Cynthia, very quietly, taking up her sewing as she spoke. 'I don't know,' said her mother, replying to the question after her own fashion. 'I'm sure I don't always approve of Mr Preston; but even if it was him she was thinking about, he's far more agreeable than she is; and I had much rather have him coming to call than an old maid like her any day.' 'I don't know that it was Mr Preston she was thinking about,' said Molly. 'It was only a guess. When you were both in London she spoke about him, - I thought she had heard something about you and him, Cynthia.' Unseen by her mother Cynthia looked up at Molly, her eyes full of prohibition, her cheeks full of angry colour. Molly stopped short suddenly. After that look she was surprised at the quietness with which Cynthia said, almost immediately, - 'Well, after all it is only your fancy that she was alluding to Mr Preston, so perhaps we had better not say any more about him; and as for her advice to mamma to look after you better, Miss Molly, I'll stand bail for your good behaviour; for both mamma and I know you're the last person to do any foolish things in that way. And now don't let us talk any more about it. I was coming to tell you that Hannah Brand's little boy has been badly burnt, and his sister is downstairs asking for old linen.' Mrs Gibson was always kind to poor people, and she immediately got up and went to her stores to search for the article wanted. [...]... 'Molly, pray don't ever allude to anything between me and Mr Preston, - not to mamma, nor to any one Never do! I've a reason for it, - don't say anything more about it, ever.' Mrs Gibson came back at this moment, and Molly had to stop short again on the brink of Cynthia's confidence; uncertain indeed this time, if she would have been told anything more, and only sure that she had annoyed Cynthia a good . Wives and Daughters ELIZABETH GASKELL CHAPTER 41-p2 In a moment, Molly's arms were round her. 'Oh, Cynthia,'. town is so often represented as the centre of dissipation, corrupting country wives and squires' daughters, and unfitting them for all their duties by the constant whirl of its not always. heard of them before and probably should never hear of them again, but she read out the fine things they said of my lord, and Mr Roger, and I put it to you, where were they born and bred? Why, within